I wrote this after learning of my need for therapy but three days before my unplanned hospitalization. I derived this blog's title from this poem, and I derived the title of this poem from the story of Socrates death.
Owing Nothing to Asclepius
December 26, 2011
And if I don’t altogether rise
From the ashes, I’ll damn well
Crawl from the sons
Of bitches—lousy
With clinging embers,
An emblem of the earth
bound.
And if I don’t come fully clean
Of the soot, naked
In the fire-hose, I’ll sure
As hell strut brûléed
To the next station
Of the beat-down.
So swallow, Socrates, down
The hatch. Walk until you fall
Then wallow in offal—
Your desecrated innards.
The poison demands,
An emblem of the earth
bound,
of the beaten down.
The chemistry of courage is lousy
With cold cinders.
The first two stanzas(+line) are just---perfect. The rest is great, but the first two? Perfect. song and fiery at once. anaphora win.
ReplyDeleteand gee, Jonathan---you scared your readers/comments off with poetry? who knew that would do it...
Thanks, Hannah. And yes, the last bits of the poem are a bit lumpy yet. I am still honing. Good to hear from you.
ReplyDelete